


Videophone

by TrollSweat



Series: Fair Winds and Following Seas [4]
Category: Warcraft - All Media Types, World of Warcraft
Genre: Accidental Voyeurism, Alternate Universe - College/University, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Blow Jobs, Established Relationship, M/M, Masturbation, Professor Mathias Shaw, Second-Hand Embarrassment
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-25
Updated: 2021-02-25
Packaged: 2021-03-15 16:21:14
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,877
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29686647
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TrollSweat/pseuds/TrollSweat
Summary: Of all the things to best Mathias Shaw, a smartphone was not the one he expected.
Relationships: Flynn Fairwind/Mathias Shaw
Series: Fair Winds and Following Seas [4]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2010307
Comments: 7
Kudos: 26





	Videophone

**Author's Note:**

> Written as a prompt fill for a fun challenge with friends, you know who you are <3 :)
> 
> Please read notes at end for additional warnings.

Mathias Shaw was quite adept with technology. He had to be. His respective jobs required it, and they demanded a little more than just the knowledge to create powerpoint presentations, or the ability to click on and type into the search function box (though his powerpoints were always immaculate, and he could Google like a pro).

His work required him to use a myriad of various gadgets, tools, and objects covered in flashing lights that beeped at him if he so much as looked at them wrong, but he was an experienced professional; Senior Crime Scene Investigator for SI:7, and Head of Forensic Investigation Studies at Stormwind University.

So the handheld device, the one he carried in the pocket of his slacks on a day to day basis, should not have been that difficult for him to figure out.  _ Children _ used them for Christ’s sake, but for some reason, Mathias could not wrap his head around it.

Of all the things to best Mathias Shaw, a smartphone was not the one he expected.

It wasn’t a complex object by any means, in fact, it looked quite simple; slim, sleek, and streamlined. It was modern, with no buttons or switches, just a large glass plate that responded to his touch when he lay his fingertips on specific points of the screen. And he hated the fucking thing.

He missed his faithful BlackBerry, with it’s full, manual qwerty keyboard, ability to make and receive phone calls, and shoot the odd email when he needed to. He could barely manage to  _ unlock _ his new device; it required a fingerprint, facial recognition, and a 6 number password just to open the home screen, and  _ then  _ he had to search through dozens upon dozens of useless applications just to find his contact list.

He had, at least, firmly refused to let Flynn set him up with any social media. Facebook was a firm no, Twitter denied, and Instagram… maybe he liked Instagram for it’s plethora of delightful cat photos (his own camera roll was similarly filled with photographs of a scrawny ginger tabby, often being held in Flynn’s arms), but that was beside the point.

“I don’t want to talk to strangers on the internet, Flynn,” had been his argument, “anyone worth me conversing with, I know personally.”

“It’s not about that, love,” Flynn countered, holding out a pristine, white cardboard box, which was wrapped in clear plastic. Brand new. “As much as I could listen to your dulcet tones all day, Mat, sometimes... when I’m away... it would be nice if I could video phone, y’know,  _ see  _ what you’re up to, not just hear.”

Mathias’ heart had clenched funny in his chest at that. Flynn spent a lot of time at sea, his job as Captain of a private yacht for the prolific Wrynn family (benefactors of the university, and the reason Mathias and Flynn had met in the first place) often kept him away for weeks at a time, travelling the world, visiting exotic places, often left to his own devices while the Wrynn’s attended pretentious parties and business meetings in the Caribbean.

“It’s nice, but it’s  _ lonely _ Mat. And since you can’t come with me, I would like to see your face once in a while,” Flynn had looked at him with a little sad pout, pressing the box containing the sleek, shiny, touch-screen device into his palm.

Mathias had sighed and taken it from him, “Fine,” he said, picking at the seam in the plastic wrap with his thumbnail, “I will...consider it.”

This seemed to be good enough for Flynn, who’s mouth cracked into a wide grin beneath his moustache. He took Mathias’ face gently in his palms and kissed him, a soft press of warm, chapped lips against Mathias’ mouth, his cheek, nose and forehead, then deftly plucked the box from Mathias’ hands, “Come on, I’ll set it up for you.”

\- - - - -

Mathias’ class was small, ten students at most, but they were a sharp group of post-graduates, and a pleasure to teach. The topic of that day’s lecture was preventative measures to avoid contamination of evidence at a crime scene, something in which a little common sense went a long way, but common sense was, apparently, something his own colleagues sorely lacked. 

He recalled an incident to the class, in which his subordinate, Renzik, had compromised an entire week's worth of evidence collection by neglecting to shut a door properly. A gust of wind had scattered numbered markers and papers around the room and undone a solid two days of work. Mathias had had sharp words with his team afterwards, and sent them all for a solid day of re-training, a course he ran himself.

He used the same training video for his students now, dimming the light in the lecture hall and setting up his projector to run the film. The video consisted of several short clips from various television drama series, all of which he had hand picked himself for their worrying displays of incompetency, and lack of respect for the evidence.

The task he assigned to his students was simple enough; note the various ways in which these particular crime scenes were being contaminated by the members of the forensics team, and suggest ways in which to prevent them.

He settled into the chair behind his desk as the video began to play, a quiet rustle of notebooks being opened, and the steady scratch of pen against paper as his students began work on the task at hand. He leant back, crossing his legs at the knee, drumming his fingertips against the desktop as he idly surveyed the room. 

He had seen this video enough times to know exactly what was coming, what the students should be looking out for, the intonation of every line said by every character, could picture with his eyes closed what was happening in every scene.

It was  _ dull,  _ and soon his mind was drifting, making mental notes to pick up cat food on the way home ( _ ‘Biscuit likes the fish _ ’), deciding what to eat for dinner himself that evening (‘ _ a meal for one’ _ ), wondering what Flynn would have suggested had he been around (‘ _ probably mac and cheese’ _ ). His thoughts eventually settled on Flynn himself, wondering just where he was in the world at that moment.

The Wrynn’s were prone to travel at short notice, often leaving Flynn with less than twenty-four hours to pack and make arrangements. Mathias could always see the tension build in Flynn’s shoulders every time he received a phone call from Varian, informing him of a trip to a different continent, and that they were to set sail the following day. But Flynn loved the ocean, and Mathias could not - would not - deny him the opportunity to live his dream of travelling the world, even if all he wanted was to hold on to Flynn for the rest of his life and never let go.

Flynn had, apparently, had similar ideas, and Mathias rubbed his thumb over the cool, smooth steel of the engagement ring wrapped around his finger, and raised a hand to his mouth to hide his smile. They had not yet set a date, or decided on any of the details, but Mathias was  _ happy,  _ something that had not gone unnoticed by his colleagues, both at SI:7 and S.W.U.

Even Genn Greymane, Head of Historical Document Conservation, had clapped him on the shoulder with a hearty “congratulations”, and had been stunned into silence when Mathias had given him a very genuine smile in response.

Mathias couldn’t deny that Flynn’s presence in his life had changed him, but ultimately, changed him for the better. He was staring wistfully into space as the film droned on behind him, a scene from an old show, the lead character a stoic man with an affinity for sunglasses and one liners (“ _ It looks like - something - caught her... _ ”), when his phone vibrated in his pocket.

He recognised the pattern and rhythm as the alert Flynn had set for himself, “So you know to pick up when I call,” he’d said with a wink, tapping away until the vibrations buzzed in a series of dots and dashes that Flynn was insistent was morse code for his name (which Mathias had Googled later, only to discover that it most certainly did  _ not _ spell out Flynn, unless ‘Flynn’ was spelled ‘b-o-o-t-y-c-a-l-l’).

A glance up to ensure his class was still engrossed in their work, he dipped his hand into the pocket of his trousers and slipped the phone out, smirking as he saw Flynn’s name flashing on the screen, alongside the notification that he had received a new message. Flynn always preferred to call for conversation and didn't text often, usually only doing so to send photos of the locations he had visited while away. 

It was a little reckless, he knew, texting during work hours, but tucked behind his desk in the corner, with the lecture hall lights dimmed, and his class scribbling away, he thought he was safe enough. With the phone volume off, and the screen angled low so as not to cast light on his face, he slid his thumb across the glass plate to unlock the phone’s home screen.

When he tapped on the message notification, expecting an artistic shot of a marble sculpture, he was instead greeted by the image of Flynn’s large, and very hard cock which, in Mathias’ opinion, was a work of art itself.

Though it was, however, quite unexpected, and Mathias fumbled with the device, nearly dropping it, and in the process, his thumb pressed the screen. It was only then that Mathias noticed the small, white triangle in the centre of the image. A video message. Mathias stared as the video began to play on his phone, a brightly lit clip of Flynn stroking himself.

Accompanied by a loud, drawn-out moan, and a string of curses that reverberated around the lecture hall.

_ “Aaaah, oh fuck Mattie, yessssss.. I can’t wait to see you… have your mouth round my cock, so I can cum down your throat... _ ”

Mathias froze as Flynn’s husky, lust deepened voice filled the room, moans punctuated by the slick sounds of flesh moving over flesh. His face frozen in an expression of what he was sure must have been abject horror, Mathias turned to look at the projector screen. Sure enough, there in all its glory, projected six feet tall and in high definition for all to see, was Flynn’s cock.

“ _ Fuck, _ ” Mathias cursed quietly, his mind racing, blood draining from his face as he realised his error. He had forgotten to turn the bluetooth off after airdropping files to his laptop, and somehow along the way, he had managed to connect his phone screen to the projector.

‘ _ Curse this fucking piece of shit phone,’ _ Mathias thought, slamming his thumb down onto the phone screen to pause the video, and locking it so the projector once again showed the training video, which he also paused. He dropped his phone face down on the desk, and stood, reaching over to slam the lid of his laptop closed. Heat rose in his face as the humiliation of the situation began to creep up his spine, his nerves tingling, face hot, sweat beginning to bead on his forehead and prickle at his scalp.

“Class dismissed,” he bit out, leaning against the desk, his hands curled into fists against the wood, the tendons in his arms flexing in discomfort as his fingernails pressed into the flesh of his palms. He hung his head, staring resolutely at the desktop. He had never felt so embarrassed in his life.

He was a  _ professional,  _ his job was to  _ not  _ make mistakes, and yet, here he was, having made one of the biggest mistakes of his life. He swallowed around a lump in his throat, sure that this was it. The end of his career. Fifteen years of hard work and dedication, gone in an instant, because he couldn’t control himself where Flynn was involved.

There was a long moment of stunned silence in the room, before a student eventually called out, “Oh  _ shit, _ Prof, was that your boyfriend?”

Then another voice from further back in the lecture hall, “Oh my god, he’s _ hot!” _

_ “ _ He’s _ thicc...” _

“God, I’m jealous...”

Soon the room was filled with inane chatter, and as much as Mathias’ jaw clenched in discomfort and embarrassment at the situation, he couldn't help but feel a small flicker of pride.

To hear his students commenting so freely on the size of Flynn’s cock, and the wistful sighs and exclamations of envy, gave Mathias a secret thrill. Flynn was attractive, desirable, and the knowledge that Flynn was  _ his _ , and  _ only _ his, sent sparks down Mathias’ spine, and had his heart beating a little faster against his ribcage.

‘ _ Calm _ ,’ he thought, taking a deep breath in through his nose and counting down from ten, deciding that it was better to face the issue head on now, than to ignore it and let it potentially snowball into something he couldn’t control.

“He’s my fiancé, actually,” he said calmly, straightening up and striding to the door to switch the overhead lighting back on. He stood there for a moment, facing the wall, a tendon in his neck twitching. He took another breath, another count of ten, and turned to face the room.

“Like I said, class dismissed,” he opened the door as his students began to gather their belongings, “I would like your notes typed up in full to be presented next session,” he steeled himself, “and I ask you all to  _ never  _ mention this to anyone outside this room. Please.”

“Yes professor,”

“Of course!”

“Mention what?”

The students filed out one by one, tossing farewells over their shoulders, and Mathias closed the door behind them. He headed back to the desk and sat, sinking down low in the chair, glaring at the phone on the desktop with a look of ire and distrust. This would never have happened with his BlackBerry, he knew it. He cursed the phone again, cursed Flynn for talking him into it, and cursed himself for agreeing.

However...

He picked the phone up once more, unlocking it with a swipe of his thumb. As the glass shifted from black to colour, the video preview was still displayed on the screen and, as he looked, Mathias noticed just where Flynn was. He’d only caught a glimpse the first time, but the sheets beneath Flynn were maroon and white, and there was a glimpse of a familiar mahogany bed frame behind him 

Flynn was in bed.  _ Their _ bed. Flynn was  _ home _ .

The realisation hit Mathias like a tidal wave. His heart skipped in his chest, the corner of his eyes pricking as tears threatened to burst forth. He wiped them away quickly with the back of his hand and shoved his phone back into his pocket, releasing a shuddering breath as he began to pack away his belongings.

He needed to rethink dinner.

\- - - - -

Mathias drove home as fast as he (legally) could that evening, stopping on the way to pick up cat food, a meal for two (mac and cheese) and a bottle of wine.

When he arrived home, Flynn greeted him at the door, pulling him into a tight, warm hug, with a long kiss that melted all of Mathias’ worries into nothing. Except when he almost dropped the bag of groceries, which Flynn took from him and placed on the kitchen counter of their apartment.

Mathias watched him from the hallway, drinking in the sight. He had not seen his fiancé for three weeks, and he catalogued the minute changes in his mind, and stored them away for later.

Flynn was tanned a deep golden, and more freckles had bloomed over his skin, from head to bare foot. His long auburn hair was sun-kissed and loose, longer than before, and flowing over his shoulders, his beard a little scruffy after three weeks at sea.

He was dressed in a loose tank and grey sweatpants, and the muscles of his arms flexed as he moved around the kitchenette, putting away the groceries. Mathias let his gaze wander, slowly raking down Flynn’s body, over the curve of his and back up to meet his gaze.

“Are you going to stand there all evening, love,” Flynn asked, pulling the bottle of wine from the bag with a raised brow, “or are we celebrating something?”

Mathias rolled his eyes and made his way to the kitchen. He punched Flynn gently on the shoulder, and fell against his broad chest, pressing his face into Flynn’s neck as strong arms wrapped around his shoulders, “My entire post-grad class saw your dick,” he mumbled against Flynn’s skin, inhaling the scent of him that was clean and fresh, like salt and soap. It was comforting, and familiar, and Flynn was solid beneath his palms, which slid from Flynn’s waist to his back, then lower until Mathias’ hands were cupping Flynn’s cheeks and pulling him close.

Flynn barked a laugh, his own hands wandering over Mathias’ back and shoulders, “Oh? What did they think?”

“They called you thick...”

“Was that c-k or c-c?”

“I don’t know or care, I was more worried about losing my job.”

“You won’t,”

“Flynn, you can’t know...”

“Yes I can, Mat, don’t forget who I work for,” he winked, running his thumbs over Mathias’ collarbones through the soft fabric of his turtleneck.

“Flynn,” Mathias leaned back enough to look into Flynn’s sea-blue eyes, which regarded him softly. Mathias surged forwards and kissed him, hot and wet and without restraint. He’d spent three weeks alone, three weeks with only Biscuit for company, three weeks with just his own hands to bring himself pleasure.

But Flynn was home, here, solid, and Mathias was _ desperate _ . 

He tried to convey as much in his kiss, licking into Flynn’s mouth and running his tongue along the row of slightly crooked teeth as he scrabbled with one hand at the waistband of Flynn’s sweatpants, dipping it beneath to palm Flynn’s cock. He was hard, and leaking freely from the tip, his hips bucking into Mathias’ hand as fingers wrapped around the length and began to stroke.

“What do you want, love?” Mathias whispered against his jaw, trailing his lips over the rough stubble, up to Flynn’s ear, “do you want me to suck you off like you said? Do you want to cum down my throat, watch me swallow every drop?”

Flynn shuddered and nodded, “God,  _ please _ , I’ve been hard since I sent you that video.”

Mathias hand stilled on Flynn’s cock, “You didn’t cum?”

“I was saving it for you.”

“Ever the romantic,” Mathias smirked and coaxed Flynn backwards towards the couch, where the Captain dropped onto the plush cushions. Mathias dropped to his knees between his thighs, and pulled the sweatpants off over Flynn’s hips. He wasn’t wearing underwear, and his cock caught on the waistband before bouncing up against his stomach, where it lay thick and full, dripping onto his abdomen.

Mathias tongue darted out to wet his lips at the sight, and he dipped his head, licking a stripe from Flynn’s balls to the head, taking the tip in his mouth and hollowing his cheeks around it as he sucked. Flynn cursed, his head tipped back against the back of the sofa as Mathias worked him. He curled a hand around the base and pumped what wouldn’t fit into his mouth with twists of his wrist.

Flynn’s thighs were trembling, and Mathias knew he was already close. He guided Flynn’s hands to his head, Flynn’s nails scraping pleasantly against his scalp as his head bobbed in Flynn’s lap. It didn’t take long after that for Flynn to tap his shoulder in warning, muttering a quiet “Gonna cum, love.”

Mathias kept sucking until Flynn’s body went rigid under him, and hot liquid hit the back of his throat. True to his word, he swallowed it all, sucking Flynn’s softening cock clean, and pulling off with an almost obscenely loud  _ pop. _

Flynn was looking down at him as he wiped his lips on the back of his hand. He could feel saliva and cum in his moustache, and wanted to wipe it away properly, but Flynn’s face was suddenly looming over him, freckle-sprayed cheeks flushed red, and dewy with sweat. He kissed Mathias, open mouthed, and Mathias wondered dumbly, not for the first time, if Flynn could taste himself on his tongue.

Hands reached out to pull Mathias’ up, and he landed in Flynn’s lap, settling himself with his thighs spread over Flynn’s hips. He was hard in his slacks, the fabric tenting before him, and Flynn’s hands came up to slowly unbuckle the leather belt and work the fly open. He carefully scooped Mathias’ cock from the confines of his woollen trousers and cotton underwear, and dug around in the sofa cushion for a second before finding what he was looking for.

His phone.

The glass glinted, and Mathias’ breath hitched. He looked from the phone to Flynn’s face, at the hunger in his eyes and the unspoken question on his lips. Mathias just nodded, oonce, and watched as Flynn unlocked the screen and opened the camera, swiping through until he landed on the option for video recording.

There was a quiet beep, and a red light began to flash on the screen. Flynn brought the phone up, and angled the camera lense at Mathias’ cock, and in response, Mathias brought his hand to his cock and began to stroke.

He was slow, at first, flicking his thumb over his slit to spread pre-cum over the head, and work it down his length with his palm. His hips, thrusting upwards as he found rhythm with his hand. Flynn watched through the phone screen, his pupils blown wide as he caught every motion of Mathias’ hand over his cock.

“ _ Flynn _ ,” Mathias’ voice was a hoarse whisper, and Flynn looked up at him, his expression one of open wonder and affection.

“Mat, you look so gorgeous like this,” he reached out a hand and splayed it over Mathias’ abdomen, steadying as Mathias hand began to work his cock faster, in shorter and sharper jerks of his wrist.

“M’close,” Mathias’ muttered, his eyes slipping closed as he chased his pleasure. The sensation of a larger, warmer palm against his hand was all he needed, and with a few more strokes with Flynn’s assistance, he was cumming, his seed spilling into his and Flynn’s joined hands.

He sagged in Flynn’s lap, opening his eyes as he heard the beep from the phone, indicating that the recording was over. 

“I hope that serves you well on your travels,” he murmured, leaning forward to press a kiss to Flynn’s flushed lips.

“Oh, it will, don’t you worry...” Flynn sounded a little breathless, and Mathias’ smiled and kissed him again, disentangling their fingers from his sensitive cock, trying to surreptitiously wipe them clean on Flynn’s cotton tank.

Flynn let him, playing with the phone in his hand, and a devilish smirk spread across his lips, “I know you don’t like social media, Mat love, but have you ever heard of onlyfans...”

**Author's Note:**

> 1/3 way down there is a scene involving an instance of a private video being unwittingly broadcast to a room of postgraduate students, so if that might trigger any kind of second hand embarrassment, please be aware.
> 
> The scene starts with "When he tapped on the message notification, expecting an artistic shot of a marble sculpture" and ends at “Class dismissed,” if you want to skip that part :)


End file.
